


Sleep Therapy

by MegasaurusRex, theroseofthereach



Series: A Sign That Someone Loves Me [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Consensual Somnophilia, F/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Somnophilia, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, bad bad dr chilton, inappropriate consumption of perscription drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25906480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegasaurusRex/pseuds/MegasaurusRex, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroseofthereach/pseuds/theroseofthereach
Summary: It's been a long week for you and your fiance, and you're exhausted. Yet Dr. Chilton has always been a firm advocate for the unorthodox, and a little sleep therapy might do you both the world of good...
Relationships: Dr. Frederick Chilton/Reader, Dr. Frederick Chilton/You
Series: A Sign That Someone Loves Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123127
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Sleep Therapy

The project that you had been working on all week was finally finished. No more early mornings, no more late nights, no more spending more time at the office with the coworkers you were at best acquaintances with than at home with your lovable asshole fiancé. Said loveable asshole fiancé who had also had a busy week at work. 

You had woken up this morning with the intention of dragging him to your bedroom as soon as you got home and demanding he make up for an entire week sans sex, but when you finally open the door and toss your keys on the table, the thought of doing anything more strenuous than crawling into bed was too much. 

You find Fred waiting for you in the kitchen, and by the looks of his discarded suit coat and rolled up sleeves, he had beaten you home by at most a half an hour. He had already helped himself to dinner, judging by the empty takeout carton on the kitchen counter. He has the good grace to at least look guilty about having eaten without you. 

“Hey, you. I didn’t know what time you’d be back, and I was ravenous.” He says, by way of an apology. You’re too tired to even tease him about it; you just want to get out of your work clothes, and fall into bed.

“Don’t worry about it, Fred. I’m too tired to eat anyway.” Your eyelids are heavy as you strip off your jacket and kick your shoes off, letting them fall next to the kitchen island. He frowns at you as you kiss the side of his head and give his hair a brief ruffle (it was soft and nearly product free at the end of the day and, even exhausted, you were incapable of not playing with it a little) before squeezing his shoulder and making your way out of the kitchen and back to the stairs. 

“I’m going to head up to bed, today kicked my ass.” You call over your shoulder, not expecting, but not entirely unsurprised either to hear the legs of the kitchen stool he had been sitting on scrape across the floor as Fred stands to follow you up to your room. He grabs your fingers as the two of you make your way up the stairs and presses them gently. 

You throw yourself onto the giant bed Fred insists is entirely necessary, not bothering to draw the curtains, thinking that you’ll just rest for a few minutes before getting undressed. Fred sits on the bed next to you and rests a hand on your leg. His hands are so broad and warm, and as tired as you are, you still sigh at the light touch. 

“Come cuddle me.” You mumble, feeling the mattress shift beneath you as Fred settles himself comfortably beside you, resting his head on your tummy. It’s an entirely deliberate choice of position on his part; he enjoys you playing with his hair almost as much as you enjoy playing with it, and you don’t hesitate to slide your fingers back into his thick black hair. 

He grumbles happily and rests more of his body against you, trapping one of your thighs between his legs as he lies half on top of you. As exhausted as you are, you don’t miss the little flick of his hips against your thigh; clearly, it’s been a long week for him as well. 

You smile sleepily down at the top of his head, fingers digging into his hair, deliberately attempting to solicit another twitch of his cock against your leg. You were so tired but he was so warm and heavy and you loved the feeling of him hardening against you. And just because you aren’t in any kind of shape to be participating doesn’t mean that Fred can’t have some fun- he’s proven that exhaustion and even sleep aren’t really barriers to his getting the two of you off before. 

More than once, you’ve woken up to his face between your thighs and halfway to a breathless climax. Even in the early days of your relationship his desire to watch you, in any sense, was evident; he liked cuddling you close and watching you fall asleep as much as he liked watching through the glass while you showered. 

You feel the satisfied and happy noises Fred is making deep in his chest where he’s pressed against you when you tug a little on his hair and drag your nails gently across his scalp. The low, almost vibrating purr that emanates from the broad body on top of you is nearly as exciting as the hands he trails up your torso to settle on top of your breasts- rubbing across your nipples through your bra and your shirt. Fred digs his face, with it’s pointy sharp nose and it’s pouty lips perpetually drawn into a smirk, into your belly and hums quietly. 

“I thought you were tired.” He murmurs against your stomach, nuzzling against your skin where the hem of your shirt has ridden up. As good as he feels- his comforting bulk on top of you, those exquisite hands on your breasts, the soft mouth against your abdomen- you know you’re far too tired to do anything. You’re so comfortable, sprawled out in the sunlight streaming through your open windows, that you feel like you’re going to drift away any second. 

“I am. Why don’t I have a nap; you can always have some fun of your own.” You manage, having to fight back a yawn in order to finish your sentence. Fred hums contentedly as you carry on playing with his hair, the silky strands so soft under your fingers. 

“As much as I would love to take you up on that,” Fred murmurs against your tummy, and gives your breasts a gentle squeeze, “I know that you’d never sleep through what I want to do to you. And you really do need to catch up on your sleep.” With a long sigh that feels warm on your exposed skin, he moves to roll off you. Tired though you might be, you don’t want Fred to stop. Instead, you clutch at his shoulders as inspiration strikes. 

“Don’t you still have those horse tranquilizers locked in your office?” 

“They aren’t ‘horse tranquilizers’.” He replies snippily, though his imperious tone is utterly belied by the image of his hair sticking up in a dozen different directions as he lifts his head up a little to look at you. You can’t resist a quiet snort at the sight of him, normally so compulsive about his grooming, and you shoot back, trying not to laugh at your “dignified” lover,

“Might as well be. I nearly slept for 14 hours the last time you gave me one of those.” He looks up at you, green eyes soft and surprisingly not offended, chin digging into your belly and shrugs. He rests his cheek on your bare skin again and you sigh, thinking that that’s the end of that as he nuzzles into your stomach, only to watch him sit bolt upright when he catches your meaning. Those sharp green eyes search your face intently. 

“You want me to drug you, and then have sex with you while you’re unconcious?” He says incredulously, the image of outrage only spoiled by the fact that you can still feel his half-hard cock against your thigh.

You shrug one shoulder at him, limbs loose and fuzzy as you try to stay awake enough to soothe his now very ruffled feathers and convince him that this is a good idea. 

“You like going down on me when I’m asleep. Why is this any different?” You ask. He stares at you, eyes narrowed, hands on your legs, silent for a moment. 

“Normally the point of that is to eat you out until you wake up. Not deliberately put you to sleep to eat you out.” He mumbles, sounding more hesitant than rejecting the idea outright. 

“True,” you grant, rubbing the backs of his hands. “But tell me you wouldn’t like getting to tell me all about the fun time we had when I wake up in the morning.” You see and feel his cock twitch at the idea of describing in detail eating you out- talking was one of life’s greatest pleasures for your loquacious asshole. 

“It doesn’t have to be a whole pill. And I do want this Fred, I swear. But if you aren’t in the mood...” You trail off and watch him carefully. You can practically see him weighing the idea up in his mind, the thought of being able to touch you and fuck you while you slept, without fear of waking you, clearly interesting him. 

“Well, Doctor Chilton?” You ask, settling yourself more comfortably against the pillows. “Am I going to have to sign a medical consent form to convince you?” He rarely looks so torn; worked up further by your use of his title, yet still bothered by something. 

“What if I hurt you? You won’t be able to tell me if something’s wrong.” He says eventually, sounding so adorably concerned that if you were less tired, you would have sat up and pulled him in for a cuddle.

Instead you smile softly at him and tug on his hands to pull him down to you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he buries his face in your neck. 

“Oh, Fred,” you soothe. “Darling you won’t hurt me, you never hurt me. You’re always so careful.” He shakes his head, nose rubbing against your neck. 

“I might though, and you wouldn’t be able to tell me to stop.” You stroke his hair gently. Fighting sleep with him so warm and heavy and soft on top of you was getting difficult. 

“Then be gentle. Like you always are. And think of it this way, you can check me out like you sometimes want to afterwards, and I won’t complain or laugh at you about it,” you try, smiling down at the top of his head.

_Once, after a rougher session than Fred usually indulged in, he had asked you questions about pain or discomfort, while trying to check you for internal bruising. You allowed the questions but when he tried to shuffle down the bed to stick his fingers back in and look, you pinched his ear and shoved his hands away._

__

_“I’m a trained medical professional you know,” he grumped at you, worried and offended now. You rolled your eyes at him._

__

_“Oh yeah? How many years ago did you do a rotation in gynaecology? I’m fine Fred, go to sleep.”_

You know you have him then. He groans low against your skin, before leaning back so he can look you in the eyes. 

"You promise me that you want this?" He asks sincerely, his fingers curling under your chin and encouraging you to look up at him. You nod sleepily, fighting off a yawn.

“I promise. As long as you tell me about it in the morning. I want all the details." You add, squeezing him as best as you can given how tired you are. Fred gives you a long look, and kisses you softly before rolling off of you and getting off the bed. He disappears, and you have to fight to stay awake without the distraction he provided, your eyelids so heavy you feel like you might well pass out before he gets back. It only takes him a few minutes to reappear, carrying a glass of water and a pill. 

"I'm only giving you half." He says, putting it carefully into your hand as you sit up enough to be able to take it. It's bitter on your tongue, so you swallow it quickly, washing it down with the water before he can have any second thoughts. He watches you like a hawk as you lie back down. 

"It'll take about an hour to kick in." You hardly hear him, falling back against the pillows and pulling the covers around you out of habit. Drowsily, you think that you should have undressed first, but you're too tired to pay it much mind. You feel Fred pressing delicate kisses to your face, one over each eyelid, one on the tip of your nose, and the barest brush of his lips to your own.

"Sweet dreams, my dear."

_~X~_

You wake up slowly the next morning, warm and cocooned in seemingly every blanket in your bedroom plus a heavy still snoring psychiatrist. The early morning blueish grey sunlight filters through the big windows Fred loves so much and lands on the bed next to you. Fred’s arms are loose around you, his body draped halfway on top of yours. 

You smile faintly when you notice you’re wearing one of his shirts under all of the blankets and that your hair is done up in one of the ridiculously elaborate braids that he likes to show off with on occasion. _Yes Fred, you have very long, very clever fingers, congratulations_ , you think to yourself with an indulgent smile. You shift your legs, stretching out and tangling them with his, and Fred’s arms tighten around you.

"G'morning, Sleeping Beauty." He mumbles against your collarbone, giving you a little squeeze as he stirs. You take his use of the nickname as a good sign; certainly your body feels pleasantly loose, the hint of an ache between your thighs telling you that at least _something_ happened last night. Pressing your lips against the top of Fred's head, you shiver a little as his fluffy hair tickles your face. 

"Morning yourself." You sigh happily, wrapping yourself around him and trying to encourage him to lie more directly on top of you. You're itching to ask him what happened last night, but you're not entirely sure yet if he's still half-asleep. He lets you pull at him, his warm, broad bulk settling over you and pressing you comfortably into the mattress as you wrap your legs around him. He must be fully awake; he pulls the collar of his shirt away from your neck so he can press a kiss there.

He continues to kiss every spot on your neck and collarbone that he can reach without moving his head and you sigh, relaxing under him. You can feel every inch of him on your body- the soft scratch of his stubble on your chest, the bare skin of his legs brushing against yours, the soft cotton of his boxer briefs rubbing deliciously against your clit. You snicker quietly. _Of course he didn’t put your underwear back on._

“Mmm, feel good this morning,” you mumble quietly, eyes closed. He nips at your collarbone and you feel a smirk stretch across his lips against your skin. 

“You should,” he mutters. “You certainly came enough.” He brags proudly and you’d slap his shoulder but the light ache between your legs feels so good you know he isn’t lying. With a groan, you stretch out beneath him and slide your fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” You ask carefully, letting your nails scratch ever so lightly against his scalp. Fred makes a soft, satisfied little noise in the back of his throat at the feeling; he must have missed you playing with his hair last night. Instead of answering straight away, he drags his tongue up your throat, tracing the line of your jugular vein and making you shiver at the sensation. 

“Does it bother you that you don’t know?” His breath is hot against the side of your jaw, and your fingers tighten reflexively in his hair. “Or does it turn you on?” He practically purrs, nipping at your earlobe. 

You pant lightly, shivering, your fingers clenching in his hair as his hands find their way inside of his shirt, long clever fingers dancing across your skin and brushing quickly over your nipples. You can feel yourself getting wet as his teeth nibble gently on your ear and the soft hairs at the back of your neck prickle at the feeling. 

“Turns me on.” Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and he nods. You don’t have the wherewithal right now to try and tease him; he’s so warm and heavy on top of you, and you feel so loose and satiated. It hardly matters if your words go straight to his ego. It sounds as though he more than earned the right to be smug last night. 

“Oh I can tell. I can feel you all over the front of my shorts,” he informs you, voice deeper and his erection growing between you. “Well, I suppose telling you all about it was part of the deal.” He presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers, “You were such a good girl, you came six times last night.”

“Six?” You ask with a whimper; no wonder you feel so loose and languid and just a little sore. Your last record was four before you had had to drag Fred away from you by the hair and plead with him tearfully that you needed him to stop. Your legs tighten around him reflexively and he nods, his nose bumping against your cheekbone. 

“Six.” Fred confirms smugly, pinching one of your nipples and making you gasp. “I wanted to try for more, but you were starting to get...twitchy.” He says with a snicker. His fingers slide lower, working open the buttons of the shirt you’re wearing. Every brush of his knuckles against your skin sends a jolt of heat directly to the center of you, and you gasp as his fingers move lower and lower down your body. 

“It’s a shame you couldn’t have seen yourself. All pliable and pretty for me.” The smirk on his face is downright feral, and you can’t help yourself as you grind your hips up against him. “You were doing that in your sleep, you know. Rubbing yourself up against my pants while I was playing with your nipples. I thought you were going to make yourself come from just that when I started sucking them.” He sounds so smug and self-satisfied, but you want more. You’re practically about to beg him to let you record what he’s saying, god his voice does things to you that you’re pretty sure are criminal offenses in some states, but you choose your words with more care than that. 

“Start at the beginning. Please Fred, tell me everything.” Your soft little plea is accompanied by another tug on his hair, another little buck of your hips. He hums against your cheek, his palms cupping your breasts and squeezing gently. His hands are warm, and broad, and you arch your back into his touch, desperate to press as much of yourself against him as possible. 

“Should I walk you through it? Step by step?” You moan and nod sharply, his nose dragging against your face. He kisses your cheek and ruts his hips softly against yours, the drag of his semi-hard cock against your clit making the muscles in your legs spasm and jerk. “Well,” he begins. “I held you while you fell asleep, that was nice. You know how cuddly you get when you’re sleepy.” He nips at your nose and kisses you quickly on the mouth. 

“That didn’t take too long, and god you were so soft in my arms.” His thumbs brush across your nipples and you gasp, hips arching into him and his hard cock again. “Then I kissed you, all over your face, all over your neck, as I unbuttoned your shirt and tossed it across the room.” 

He presses his forehead to yours and one of his hands leaves your breast and comes up to your chin. He turns your face to the side and whispers, “Look. Open your eyes and look, it’s over there, hanging off that armchair.” You look and sure enough there’s your blouse, hanging half off the chair he loves to sit in when he watches you get yourself off. He’s using the same tone of voice as he does when he sits back and orders you to take your clothes off and touch yourself, and it goes straight to your core. 

Fred chuckles right into your ear, nipping at the lobe. “Your pants were next. They seemed easier to slip off, and I didn’t know if the pill had fully kicked in enough. Once they were gone, I knelt between your legs, and just looked at you for a while. Deciding what to do with you.” You can picture it so clearly; Fred, still practically fully dressed, while you were splayed out half-naked and unconscious for him. It’s a mental image that is far too attractive for what it is. The enlightened feminist in you knows you shouldn’t be as turned on as you are by it, but when has that ever stopped you exploring some of Fred’s less conventional kinks. 

“I think I ended up kissing every inch of you last night. I started at one ankle, and covered you in kisses, all the way up to your forehead and then back down your other leg.” With the hand that’s still cupping your face, he brushes his fingertips delicately over your lips. “You were smiling in your sleep.” Fred says smugly, his smirk only broadening when you open your mouth and start to suck lightly on the tips of his fingers. If it weren’t liable to make him too breathless to continue, you’d offer to suck his dick while he talks, but you’ll happily settle instead for those gorgeously long fingers of his. 

“I could see how wet you were through your underwear by then. I’d barely touched you, but you were already soaked.” He groans, long and pleased, as you continue to suck on his fingers. You can still smell yourself on them, but all you can taste is him so he must have beaten you to licking them off. 

“Fuck, you were so wet, I didn’t even bother trying to put them back on. Even after I spent hours on you they were still damp.” You moan around his fingers and he squeezes your breast. “I slipped them off of you and spread your legs and, god, love, you were laying there so sweet and nice and ready for me.” He lets go of your breast and runs his hand down your side, stopping to hang onto your hip.

“I didn’t start there though. I still had to get your bra off- you didn’t even stir when I broke the clasp.” He squeezes at your hip, but makes no move to stop your little thrusts as you try and grind against his cock, frustrated at the lack of friction. 

“I spent so long on just your breasts; kissing them all over, sucking and biting at your nipples.You absolutely soaked the front of my pants, trying to rut up against me.” He says with a low chuckle. You can’t even fault him for sounding so smug; clearly you didn’t even need to be conscious to be desperate for him. 

“And when I just couldn’t wait anymore, I gave in and started licking that sweet little cunt of yours.” Fred pinches your thigh, and you moan as best as you can around his fingers. For having seemed so hesitant about the idea at first, he had clearly taken to it eagerly. 

You could feel just how eager he was to just tell you about it by the way he was pressed hard and hot against your cunt, letting you grind your hips against him in a desperate bid to get off. Except for the occasional tiny thrust that he seemed incapable of resisting, Fred held absolutely still and let you try to work off of him yourself. 

“And oh, you tasted so sweet. Feeling your thighs twitch next to my head every time my nose brushed or bumped against your clit- because I had to clean off such a messy, wet workspace first, I couldn’t just go for the treat I really wanted- was delightful. Every time I licked over your cunt, or dipped the tip of my tongue inside a little you’d twitch, but besides those little spasms you didn’t move away from my mouth at all. Why, I hardly had to do any work at all darling.” You drag your teeth across his knuckles and his fingers dig into your thigh as he lets out a loud gasp, rocking his erection, still trapped in those stupidly tight boxer briefs, hard against you. 

“Fuck, yes, those were orgasms numbers one and two; just me, cleaning up your mess before we could really get to the main event. And I took my time.” You were sure he did.

“Normally number three is when you start pulling at my hair like you want to scalp me.” He teases, dragging his nose along your neck and inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of you. Even after spending half the night indulging in you, it’s as though he still can’t get enough of you. 

“But last night, you were such a good girl, letting me suck on your clit and fuck you with my tongue as much as I wanted. I even spat on your cunt, just to see whether that would get more than a twitch out of you. I think it just made you jump.” Another low chuckle rumbles through his chest and vibrates against your neck, and you whine around the fingers filling your mouth. The idea of Fred doing that is too much; you slip one hand from his hair and scratch at his back as you try to pull him, impossibly, closer to you. 

“That was number three and number four.” He says, hissing slightly at the catch of your nails against his skin. “By then, I thought I’d conduct a little experiment. I wanted to see if you were wet enough for me to get four of my fingers inside of you.” Oh and the thought of that, combined with the rock of your clit against his cock and the drag of his underwear against that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from last night, is just too much. 

You’re on the brink of another orgasm, it feels so good it almost hurts, and you whine around his fingers as you imagine the feel of nearly all of his fingers inside you. If you didn’t think it would leave you sore, you’d ask him to do it again now that you’re awake, just to see for yourself. 

“Yes, my darling, four. We’ve only ever done three before, I know, but,” he licks lightly at your neck. “I figured now was the time to push our luck, with you so wonderfully soft and pliant beneath me.” You rock harder against him, faster and faster as he describes putting first one, and then two fingers inside you. 

“Two was easy, and after four orgasms and that sedative you were so relaxed that three wasn’t as difficult as it normally is.” He spreads your legs to give you more room to really move against him and encourages you with a few thrusts of his own. You’re so close- 

“My goodness you’re really enjoying this aren't you? Hearing all about what a good, cooperative girl you were for me, letting me do just what I wanted to you. Are you ready to hear about how slowly I worked on finger number four?” He asks quietly, and you whimper and nod around his fingers in your mouth.

“You were taking three so well, but I know how much you like to be stuffed full. You only had my pinkie to go, just my little finger, but you already felt so tight around the others. I spent so long easing you open, love, stretching your perfect little cunt out so carefully until I could just get the tips of all four fingers in.” You’re rolling your hips faster now, chasing your seventh orgasm in less than twelve hours and scrabbling at Fred’s back in an attempt to get him to meet your thrusts. You feel greedy, and increasingly sore, but you’re utterly helpless to stop yourself. 

“God, it was such a pretty sight. I couldn’t resist watching all four of my fingers disappear inside of you, so slowly that you would have felt every millimetre if you’d have been awake.” As if to emphasise his point, he pushes his fingers a little deeper into your mouth. “Such a good girl, are you going to come again? Give me another, my darling, that’s it.” He coos as you fall apart, sobbing around his fingers as you come. The heat licking its way through your veins is verging on painful, your pleasure laced with a deep ache as your hips stutter and jerk against Fred. 

“That’s it, just like that, yes, oh, that’s wonderful darling,” Fred praises you softly, petting your thigh as you ride through this, aching and jerking against him as he holds still above you. You try to whine his name around his fingers and he chuckles. “What was that?” He asks, finally pulling his fingers from your mouth slowly, grabbing onto your chin and leaving wet marks on your skin. 

“Fred, fuck, that was-” You pause to take a deep breath. “That’s only number five.” Fred grins at you, pouty pretty lips stretched over perfect white teeth. He nods. 

“Number five was with just the tips of my fingers inside you.” He agrees, wet fingers still squeezing your chin. His nose bumps against yours affectionately. “Number six was my favorite.” You can’t look away from his bright, sharp green eyes. “Number six. Wow.” He sighs happily and lets go of your chin and your thigh. Letting himself rest all the way on top of you, his bare skin warm against yours, his weight heavy and perfect, he frames your face with his forearms and cards his fingers through your hair. 

“Oh, I loved number six. Darling, I had four fingers inside of you and you were just so tight.” He ruts gently against your sore and aching cunt. “You were so tight so I just pushed them all the way in so, so slowly, and then, with all of them deep inside of you, I got to use my tongue on your clit one last time.”

You’re aching so much already, and every drag of his hips makes your clit hurt, but you need to be closer to him. Impatiently, you pull at the waistband of his boxer briefs, dragging them down just enough to free his cock. 

“Need you, please Fred. I need you inside me.” You whimper, utterly beyond caring about how smug he looks; he’s more than earned it. 

“You were making the sweetest little noises by number six, love. The softest gasps and hitches in your breathing; I thought I was going to come in my pants like a teenager.” He cuts himself off with a low grunt as he slides against your soaked entrance, one of his hands slipping between your bodies so he can guide himself into you. You cry out sharply as he fills you, the pleasure shadowed by the slightest whisper of pain. 

“After six, I took the rest of my clothes off, and finally fucked you. I thought about moving you onto your tummy for that, but I wanted to watch my cock split you open.” He stays still inside of you, despite your nails scraping lightly along his back and sides, desperately seeking for purchase. Instead, he brushes your hair delicately away from your face, utterly unbothered by your squirming. 

“Fred, Fred please, Jesus, move please...” You whine, shifting underneath him, hitching your legs up around his hips and moaning as he slides deeper into you. 

“Oh, darling, you always take me so well, even after six orgasms.” He rocks his hips slowly and you dig your nails into his sides, gasping as his cock hits a spot inside you that has your whole body aching so good. “There it is,” Fred sighs smugly. Every muscle in your body contracts as he pulls out inch by inch, making sure you feel every bit of him. His fingers are soft on your face as he holds still just inside you as you pant, eyes tightly shut. 

“Fred...” 

He kisses first one cheek and then the next, and then both eyelids before instructing, “Open your eyes.” You bite your lip and draw a shaky breath before doing so. His green eyes are sharp and as soon as he has your attention he pushes slowly back into you. 

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises as your eyes slip closed. “Open.” He sets the slowest pace you can ever remember Fred fucking you, staring into your eyes as he takes you apart piece by piece on his cock. He fucks you deeply, and sore or not, you feel a familiar burning feeling in the pit of your stomach beginning to boil, your nerves twitching, your legs locking around his waist. It’s a fight to keep your eyes open and on his. 

Somehow it feels so much bigger, so much more, with his eyes locked on you seeing everything, seeing right through you. You need him to come; you don’t think you have another orgasm left in you. 

“This is how I fucked you last night.” Fred says, practically purring when you slide your fingers back into his hair. 

“So slowly, and so deeply that I thought I might hit the end of you. God, I’d spend all my time buried in your perfect cunt if I could, you’re always so tight, and warm, and wet for me. And you were so good last night, so pliant and pretty. My very own Sleeping Beauty.” He huffs a laugh, his breath warm against your skin and only adding to the complete sensory overload you’re experiencing. You buck your hips and try to tighten around him, trying to push him into coming faster. 

“Fred, please, I can’t.” You sob weakly, looking deeply into those piercing eyes of his and searching for a reprieve. Every lick of burning pleasure that’s coiling in your core hurts just a little more than the one that came before, and you truly don’t know how much more you have in you. 

“Oh you can, darling. I know you can, you really can.” He encourages, smile easy, eyes so sure, so confident. You squeeze your legs around his waist and tug hard on his hair. 

“Fred, god-” You break off with another sob, and Fred groans as you clench around his cock inside of you. 

“Just a little more darling, just- fuck, just a bit more.” Fred thrusts harder a few times, hips stuttering, eyes tightening and his hands leaving your hair to grip the pillow next to your head hard, twisting the fabric between his fingers. You cry out as his hips shove hard once, twice and he comes, finally breaking eye contact to bury his face in your neck, grazing his teeth against your skin. 

You clutch him to you tightly as he grumbles happily into your neck, soft satisfied sounds as he presses you into the mattress, cock still jerking inside of you. You breathe heavily underneath him, aching, sore, and content, your nerves still twitching, and your legs still clutched around him. 

You’re not sure how long the two of you lie like that for, both thoroughly worn out and satiated. It’s not long before the soreness between your legs makes itself known, and Fred doesn’t miss your wince as you try to shift your legs. In an instant he’s sitting up, pulling out of you carefully so as not to hurt you further, those gorgeous green eyes full of concern as he looks you over. As sore as you are, you try to tug him back down on top of you, but he’s having none of it.

“I think you need a hot bath. Doctor’s orders.” He says firmly. You’re in no mood to bicker with him; quite honestly, the idea of relaxing in your clawfoot tub with him sounds incredible. Before he can climb out of bed to start running the water, you catch his hand. 

“We’re definitely trying this again, aren’t we?” You say, with an exhausted little laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so proud of us for finally posting some of the unapologetic filth we've collaborated on together!
> 
> (Find me (roseofthereach) on tumblr at pascalispretty)


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